


Everybody's Famous

by lourrygum



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 02:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8471371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lourrygum/pseuds/lourrygum
Summary: "“Okay, great. Now Michael. If you could, like, slide your hand up to Luke’s neck… Kind of like you’re holding him in place – great, just like that, yeah.”Michael manages to do as she says, and Luke goes above and beyond, pushing himself up against Michael more than what may be strictly necessary, dragging his lips over Michael’s bobbing Adam’s apple. "or, michael strongly dislikes luke hemmings but has to do a photoshoot with him





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in the works for at least 2 months now, so I'm v glad to finally be uploading it. I was inistially going to leave it like this, but I feel like there's potential in there for a second chapter, so expect that soon.
> 
> Hope you like this

Overall, Michael likes his job.

It was hard, initially; getting into an industry that tends to chew you up and then spit you out after it’s done absorbing all your nutrients (Calum has pleaded with Michael to stop using that metaphor several times; Michael will never stop). But he’d made it in the end, despite not having an eight pack and never being incredibly prepared, or willing, to strip down to his underwear for a photo-shoot at 8 in the morning, ever. 

He knows he owes a lot to Calum, who, at this point, isn’t even just his manager anymore, but a quarter manager, half friend, and a quarter father. It’s a lot of roles to play but he plays them all very well and Michael loves him a lot even though it baffles him how Calum, even though he’s the same age as him, can have his shit together to the extent where he can _manage_ Michael. In a _professional_ setting.

Calum had been the primary reason Michael had gotten his job in the first place, although it was kind of hard walking into interviews and having the interviewer assume it was Calum that wanted to come model for them, not the pasty-skinned pierced and tattooed boy with a vaguely annoyed expression on his face. 

His attitude was something he had refused to change, because if he lost his snark, then what was left? Just another cookie cutter male model clone – Michael liked to think he was better than that. He was kind of a dick (or just plain annoying, depending on who you asked) until you got to know him, but he liked to think he was an okay person, and his charm and general kindness was just buried deep down and was then discovered if the person would stick around long enough to get to know him. Like a prize.

Anyway, it’s all about confidence, modelling. And Michael can be the cockiest motherfucker in the whole room when he wants to be. Runways are a walk in the park – especially when it’s tuxedos he’s modelling, God. He looks damn good in a tux. So his somewhat unique personality tends to be overlooked – he does his job, he makes people want to look like him and in turn buy the clothes he’s modelling, he makes the agency their money, he lies to them about following their diet plans – he’s given them no reason to dislike him, or treat him badly.

So he can’t figure out why the fuck he’s been signed up to work with Luke ‘Face of Calvin Klein and Overall Dickhead’ Hemmings.

-

As with every life-changing, agony-filled event that Michael’s agency – “Elite” – orders him to take part in, Michael finds out through a goddamn e-mail. He’s lying on the sofa in his dressing room, face down, when Calum runs in.

“Michael! Shit, man, are you okay?” Calum comes to crouch down next to the older man, putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking it. “I got your text, what happened?”

Michael turns his head and looks at him morosely, his cheek smushed against the sofa. “I have to do a shoot with Luke Hemmings.” He says, voice flat. Calum takes a deep breath, and Michael can see a variety of emotions dancing across his face, before he settles on exasperation. He goes from soothingly rubbing Michael’s shoulder, to slapping it sharply. Michael yelps. “If you bruise me, you’re gonna be in fucking trouble,” he warns. Even hickies weren’t allowed in Michael’s line of work. What a life.

“You texted me saying there was a _medical emergency_ , you dick.” Calum sits on the sofa next to him, shaking his head incredulously at Michael. “Doing a shoot with Luke is not a medical emergency.”

“Calum,” Michael says through his teeth. “Don’t you remember the AFA’S?”

“The Australian Fashion Awards?” Calum quirks a thick brow. “What about them?”

Michael sighs, and looks up at the ceiling because he knows Calum’s absolutely going to take the piss out of him for the following confession. “Last year…” he prompts.

Calum’s quiet a second too long, but when he does, Michael can hear the shit-eating grin, even through his voice. “Yeahhh?” he prompts.

“He won,” Michael forces out.

“I thought you didn’t care about those awards. You said they only went to surgically-enhanced nerds who tried too hard-”

“They _do_ ,” Michael hisses, malice in each syllable.

“Uh, okay,” Calum says. “So what you’re trying to say is, you’re still hung up on that? I thought we decided that the AFA’s were definitely rigged and stupid and pointless and you were the best model in the whole world? I distinctly remember telling you that in a drunken ramble one time.”

“I don’t even care about being the _best_ , or whatever.” Michael finally sits up, facing Calum. “It’s just- I was meant to win, like, the agency shoved all these polls in my face telling me that I was on top or whatever and then Luke _Hemmings_ swoops in with his massive smile and gigantic blue eyes and charms the shit out of everyone at the last minute, _including_ the judges, I’m still convinced he fucked at least one of them, and everyone forgets about loyalty and support just jumps into the Hemmings-support pool, genitalia-first and it would’ve been nice to win because I worked fucking hard that year and it sucks to know that no matter how hard I try there’ll always be a Hemmings who tried harder.”

“So you’re still mad.” Calum seems extremely amused.

“No. This is my happy face,” Michael monotones.

Calum sighs. “I think you’re over-thinking it a bit, mate. I’m sure Luke didn’t meant to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s not about my _feelings_ , stop making me sound like a petulant 5-year-old. It’s about Luke. I don’t like him.”

“Because he hurt your feelings.”

Michael looks at Calum. “You’re fired.”

Calum rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Who else would keep running every time you cried wolf. ‘Medical emergency’,” He scoffs. “That’s new. What was it last time? Oh yeah – crazy stalker fans.” 

“How else could I have made you come immediately?” Michael asks.

“How about saying, ‘come immediately’. You twat.” Calum gets up to walk out, and flicks Michael’s head for good measure. “Now get dressed and go make yourself pretty for Luke Hemmings.”

Michael glares at him. “Ha ha. The shoot isn’t _today_.” He sighs loudly. “It starts next week. ‘S for _underwear_.”

“No,” Calum gasps, fake shock in his voice. “I thought Mr. Klein, owner of a brand that is famous worldwide for their underwear, would be interested in doing a pyjama shoot.”

Michael glares at him again. “Shut up Calum.”

-

Monday comes much too soon. A Friday night out drowning his sorrows, a day-long nap on Saturday, drowning his hangover, and then a miserable Sunday lunch meeting with his bosses about the shoot with Luke fucking Hemmings, during which he is more or less begged to keep his behaviour and attitude as pleasant possible and Calum talks more than he does, assuring that Michael will be on his best behaviour, which is where the Father aspect of their relationship shows itself – and then all of a sudden the weekend is over.

Michael’s sitting in the photographer’s chair, who happens to be, for this shoot, one of his closest friends, Kelly. Kelly has bright purple hair and pretty, dark skin and is only a few inches shorter than Michael himself – Michael is yet to convince her to get in front of the camera instead of standing behind it all the time. 

“So when does this guy get here?” Michael wonders, with a roll of his eyes. If Kelly hadn’t known about Michael’s strong dislike for Luke before, she’s slowly discovering it now.

“Ten minutes. What is it with you two?” She wonders, focusing her camera for the eighth time. Michael rolls his eyes again. Everyone on set has been running around trying to perfect every single thing since he strolled in, wearing his restricting, tight Calvin’s at 9am. Kelly was usually completely fine with just strolling up to the camera last minute, coffee in hand, and yelling out directions as she took the photos. But now she was here early, focusing the lens and taking test-shots and shit. 

“Where can I sign up for this kind of special treatment?” Michael grumbles as she, yet again changes the lens. “Does the photo quality only matter if Luke Hemmings is going to be in the shot?” Kelly gives Michael a steely look. Michael sighs. “I just don’t like him, it’s nothing. Don’t look at me.”

“Aw, Mikey,” Kelly cooes. “Have you got a crush? I’ve never seen you actually like someone, is this how you show it? By being mean to them and glaring at anyone who does them any favours? That’s mad cute.”

“I’m leaving.” Michael gets up and leaves, unwilling to be subjected to this bullying any longer. Just as he’s making his way towards the coffee table, the excessively tall blond man strolls on set.

Stopping in his tracks, Michael turns around and there he is, the Boy Wonder. He smiles at everyone, looking incredibly self-assured, which, Michael guesses, comes with the ability to steal a whole award from someone else just from your charm or whatever. Right next to him is a slightly shorter man with curly hair, who is either a clingy friend or his manager.

Michael eventually chooses to address the fact that Luke is also wearing his costume for the shoot, and they definitely look as tight as they feel. Michael figures, with Luke’s towering height, there would be a strong chance of him just being lanky, but he’s _not_ , he’s broad and has these subtly defined muscles and strong arms and thighs and his boxers are low enough that Michael can see the beginnings of his happy trail, framed by the sloping V of his hips and, it just pisses him off, overall. 

Michael hopes that maybe, at least, his ass is flat so he can find _something_ wrong with the kid, because this is just no fun. What’s he going to make fun of later on when he’s texting Calum?

The shoot manager arrives onset, a mini microphone in his hands so his already-loud voice booms through the speakers and makes Michael wince. When he looks over, Luke’s having a conversation with Kelly, whom Michael declares then and there, an ex-friend. Traitor.

“Good morning, everyone. I would like to welcome Luke Hemmings and his manager, Ashton Irwin, to our studio today. We hope your experience with us is enjoyable!” He exclaims. There’s applause from all the crew and Luke smiles bashfully and the curly-haired guy - _Ashton_ \- is just typing an email or something on his phone. “Michael Clifford to the set please,” is the last thing he says, so Michael Clifford walks over to the set, which consists of a white backdrop, which is pretty much the norm for his shoots. There’s a large leather couch, which Michael really doesn’t want to sit down on right now because it’s going to feel impossibly cold against his skin. He stares at the couch for a second longer, and tries to ignore the huge man hovering in his peripheral vision, getting closer every second.

“Hey,” comes a voice, and Michael looks up instinctively, before he can stop himself. Luke stands tall in front of him, a bright smile on his face. “I’m Luke. Shame we haven’t met yet.” He extends his hand for Michael to shake. Michael knows that he should probably just suck it up and shake his damn hand at _least_ but his annoyance at him in running way too deep right now so he just looks back up at Luke’s face.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he murmurs, going to sit on the sofa and managing not to flinch at the feel of the leather against his bare thighs. 

Luke joins him a second later, looking a little confused but still ready to co-operate when Kelly starts to shout orders at them. The way the shoot is set up, Michael’s sitting splayed out on the couch, thighs apart, and slouching just enough to _look_ casual, when really, this is the most unnatural position he’s been in for a long time. Luke is standing behind the couch, his elbows leaning on the smooth leather next to Michael’s head. Michael assumes he’s doing something with his jawline because they’ve attracted quite a lot of attention – as in, the crew are actually watching, intently. Even Calum who usually focuses on eating as many free bagels from the breakfast stand as he can during Michael’s shoots.

The pauses between each bright flash become longer, until Kelly stops taking pictures altogether.

“Problem?” Luke wonders, sounding genuinely concerned.

Kiss-ass.

“No, it’s just – this could go somewhere, it really could, but I don’t… There’s something I’m missing here.” She shakes her head, deep in thought, the little furrow she gets between her eyebrows whenever Michael’s being difficult or there’s something wrong with her baby (her camera) appearing.

“Maybe we should just call it quits. It was fun while it lasted but if there’s no chemistry, there’s no chemistry,” Michael suggests.

Kelly yelps. “Luke! No, don’t look at me, go back to how you were. Fuck. I mean – God, I don’t care, I swore, it doesn’t matter. This is perfect. Keep looking at him like that. Less exasperation, more _I wanna bone you_.” The lights are flashing again and Michael, bewildered, turns to glance at the other boy, eyebrows shooting upwards when he sees the intense look on his face. Luke winks at him and Michael wonders if there’s someone in HR he could talk to about that.

“I don’t think-” Michael begins, but he’s cut off.

“No, that was so good, the best we’ve had since we started.” Kelly sounds like a new woman, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I think this could go somewhere really good.”

“Maybe,” Luke says, “I could get on the couch as well, instead of standing behind it?”

Kelly points at Luke. “I like you. _Yes_ , please do that.”

Michael glances frantically at Calum, who just shrugs, sucking up a smoothie through a straw.

Fantastic.

Luke ends up on the sofa next to Michael, in a variety of positions, each of them having him wondering about the financial implications of suing his shoot directors, and maybe Kelly, since he mentally severed their friendship about ten minutes ago. When Luke swings a leg over his waist and straddles him, the shock on Michael’s face is so pure and real that the camera goes wild to capture the moment.

“What the fuck-” Michael begins, only to be cut off, by _Calum_ , of all people.

“Michael just roll with it.” Michael glances at him, and he’s fully concentrating now, his smoothie discarded. “You actually look really good together.”

“Yeah Michael.” Michael looks up to where Luke fucking Hemmings is sat on top of him, looking down at him smugly like he has him all figured out. “We look good together.”

“Hold it like that. No, don’t get rid of the smirk, Luke, that’s perfect. Okay… Michael you look uncomfortable as shit.”

“No kidding?” Michael says.

“Relax. Luke’s trying here, meet him halfway.”

Michael grumbles something about his fist meeting him halfway, but then takes a deep breath, locking eyes with Luke. As he stares obligingly into his eyes, the camera flashes and Luke’s lips lift in a tiny smile and Michael can’t help but wonder whether that’s just the modelling. Probably just Luke being a dick.

“Should we go further?” Luke wonders, looking up at Kelly, who nods.

“Please. This is gold.” She looks nearly frenzied with excitement, so Michael manages to only swear one single time when Luke leans down and presses his lips to his neck, and stays there, while the camera flashes. His breathes out, a long, shuddery breath, and Luke hums softly. 

“Okay, great. Now Michael. If you could, like, slide your hand up to Luke’s neck… Kind of like you’re holding him in place – great, just like that.”

Michael manages to do as she says, and Luke goes above and beyond, pushing himself up against Michael more than what may be strictly necessary, dragging his lips over and over Michael’s bobbing Adam’s apple, his eyes fluttering shut. 

Michael can _feel_ everyone’s eyes on them, watching with rapt attention – which is good, it’s great, because it means they’ve gotten it right, that they’re doing well. But the fact that Luke has smugness radiating from every pore in his body, like he’s won Michael over just because of a few involuntarily shudders at the kisses he left on his skin – that pisses Michael off.

As soon as a break is announced, Michael nearly pushes Luke to the ground in his haste to get to his dressing room. Calum makes a reasonable attempt to go after him, but Michael just shakes his head when he attempts to follow because he needs to sit alone by himself and process what has just happened.

-

Michael has been alone in his dressing room for about three minutes when there’s a knock on the door.

“Go away,” Michael calls, so naturally, the person opens the door. Luke Hemmings stands in the doorway, not even looking nervous and unsure like he really should be with the glare Michael has set on him.

“I just wanted to check if you were good?” He phrases it like a question, and for whatever reason, that annoys Michael even more.

“I’m great. Get out.” 

Luke lets himself in, the door swinging shut behind him. Michael wants to punch him in his stupid over-confident face. “Is there anything I can do?” Luke asks, obviously expecting Michael to just give in and spill his guts and have a heart-to-heart with Luke right here and right now.

“Yeah.” Michael nods at Luke’s hopeful expression. “You can _get out_.”

Luke sighs. “Okay, look. I don’t know why you’re mad at me. I’ve heard something about ‘Michael Clifford being difficult’ or whatever-”

“Thank you.”

“But I never believed it because I don’t like to believe everything I read because tabloids lie and no one is ever what they seem to be in interviews.” Luke has started to walk towards Michael’s couch. Michael seriously hopes he doesn’t intend to take a seat. “I don’t think you’re actually as tough or emotionless or whatever as you’re shown to be. So I’m guessing it’s me, and. I’m sorry for whatever. Can we just work together, normally?”

“’Normally’.” Michael repeats. “Straddling me and gazing into my eyes and- and _kissing_ me? ‘S that normal to you?”

Luke’s lips lift into a slow smile. “Well it made for a good shoot.”

“Fuck the shoot! You did all of that on purpose,” Michael says, and instantly regrets it because he suddenly doesn’t seem nearly as unbothered as before and Luke’s small smile has blown up into a grin and he hates it.

“And that purpose would be…?”

“I should be asking you.” Michael says, and Luke doesn’t answer, just looks at him, kind of how he’d looked at him back on set during the shoot with his stupid expressive blue eyes and one thing leads to another and Michael’s dick ends up in Luke’s mouth. His Calvin’s lay discarded on the floor.

Once again, Michael is laid out on the sofa, but in very different circumstances to before. Luke seems to be really into moaning around him and the vibrations are about to make Michael _lose his mind_ , his hips canting upwards, fucking into Luke’s mouth until he hits his throat. The first time, Luke splutters, pulling off and then narrowing his eyes at Michael's smug smirk. He wipes it right off his face – Luke takes it all the way back down like a champ, swallows around him, and Michael groans loudly, a stream of curses falling from his lips as Luke runs his tongue against the sensitive underside of his shaft. 

Luke pulls off after a while, leaving Michael’s cock spit-slick and glistening. He jerks him off steadily.

“Good?” He wonders, very unnecessarily because Michael can barely form words anymore. 

“Mmhm,” He breathes, then pauses as Luke licks a stripe over his balls, then goes just a little lower. “What- what are you- oh my _God_.” Michael gasps, back arching.

Luke actually laughs at his reaction. It barely even registers in Michael’s mind - the keening sound he lets out barely registers either. Every nerve ending feels like it’s alive beneath his skin as Luke laps at his hole, pausing every so often to push his tongue shallowly inside. He slowly starts to fuck him with his tongue, every thrust making Michael moan breathlessly, shamelessly, arching his back and rocking against Luke’s face.

Luke looks up at him. “Good?” He asks, chin covered in spit and pre-come, voice low and husky and it makes Michael’s cock drip like a broken faucet and he’s definitely going to have to erase this event from his memory later but there is no way in hell he wants to stop.

He nods, head heavy, face flushed, pleasure-drunk. Luke kitten-licks his hole, meeting Michael’s eyes as he laps at him, stopping just as abruptly. “Wanna hear you say it.”

“F-feels good,” Michael moans, “so good.” 

“You let all your co-workers eat you out like this?” Luke wonders, a mischievous smile on his face, starting to jerk Michael off again.

Michael hopes the exasperated look he throws Luke isn’t over powered by the desperate sounds he’s making as he slowly pushes his pinky finger into the older man, pushing his tongue in alongside it. Michael shudders, his breath leaving him. Luke hums in contentment, pushing deeper, making Michael feel like liquid fire on the inside.

“Luke, Luke, fuck,” he pants, unconsciously grabbing he blonde’s forearm. Luke focuses on lapping at the sensitive spot of Michael’s cock, right under the head, and Michael comes helplessly, spurting off in Luke’s mouth, and on his face. 

As Michael pants, trying to catch his breath, Luke swipes at some of the come on his cheek and pushes it into his mouth, sucking it clean. Michael groans at how fucking obscene he is. 

“So,” Luke hums, “We good now?”

“Is that why you did this? So we’d be ‘good?’”

“I did it ‘cause I really wanted to. If you didn’t notice out there.” Luke nods towards the direction of the set.”

“Wasn’t that just modelling?” Michael wonders, trying to sound as casual as he can while speaking to a man who had just given him the best rimjob of his life. What? Michael's not a _liar_.

“Amongst other things. Anyway, we should go out sometime.”

“I can’t take you seriously with come all over your face like that.”

Luke looks like he’s trying not to smile. “You wanna lick it off for me?”

“Gross,” Michael complains, even though if Luke pressed the issue… He wouldn’t be 100% against it.

“But really. We should go out.”

“Nah,” Michael sighs, swinging his feet over onto the floor and picking up the designer boxers. He’s aware that Luke is watching him as he slides them back on. It's a little gross. Whatever. 

“Michael,” Luke says, and Michael stands up to pull the underwear all the way up, briefly contemplating if he’s really going to leave Luke Hemmings in his dressing room, on his knees, with come on his face and his dick straining against his boxers.

“Luke,” he nods in acknowledgment, before opening his dressing room door and leaving.

Huh. Guess he is.

-

Calum and Luke’s manager, Ashton, are talking when Michael gets back out there. He walks up to them, belatedly wishing he had at least checked out his hair to make sure he was still looking as un-fucked as possible.

“Don’t you ever loosen up a little?” Calum’s asking as Michael nears them.

Ashton arches an eyebrow. “My main focus as Luke’s manager is to _manage_ him, not to drink alcohol with him, or whatever it is you’re suggesting.”

Calum looks bewildered. “So you guys aren’t friends?”

Ashton folds his arms. “Of course we are. I just like to maintain a certain aspect of professionalism, as I am, like I said before, his _manager_.”

"Come on, man. All I asked was if you two could come out for a few drinks after this, not if you could, like, strip naked and pose in the nude."

"To be honest, both of those have an equal chance of happening right about now." Ashton replies. Michael lets out a low whistle.

Calum stares at Ashton for a second, taking in his serious expression. “Holy shit,” is what he comes up with. “Dude, you’ve gotta loosen up.”

Ashton stares right back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, then nods at Michael and walks off.

Calum turns to face Michael. “God I want him to pin me up against a wall. Anyway, where have you been?” Michael’s laugh sounds a little frantic, especially as Calum’s knowing eyes run over him once. He folds his arms.

“Uh, just in my dressing room, just. Chilling.”

“Okay,” Calum says slowly. “You good to go back on set? You look frazzled.”

“Ha!” Michael laughs again, because ‘frazzled’ is such a funny word. Calum gives him a weird look, so he calms himself down. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! my tumblr is: gonnamuke, feel free to talk to me either there or here


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